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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476668" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>I Would Miss You Were You Not So Deep Inside</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I would miss you if you weren't so deep inside. <br>I would send the fireflies out like a search party<br>to beat the bushes and the stumps to see where you hide <br>were you not the stars within that lead me home.<br>I would cry out in anger and tears, World, you are not fair, <br>were you not the mystic intimate of my indignation. <br>I would look upon the illuminated world <br>thriving in its garden, and accuse the sun of being blind<br>did I not see more in your eclipse, the abundance <br>of your darkness, than I do by the vacant light of day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let others bathe like birds in the fountainmouths<br>of happier lyrics, I drown in your watershed, <br>a starfish on the moon, and the darkness shines <br>like a nightsea the colour of your eyes. And there's a sky <br>full of shipwrecked constellations without lifeboats <br>that went down into fathomless time with all hands on board<br>like a cargo of bones that reached its destination<br>by giving them all up to you, like yarrow sticks <br>to the Book of Changes, whether you read them as such or not. <br>Nine in the fifth place. Enlightenment in hell. <br>I am the nightwatchman with the moon for a lantern <br>that strikes the bell of his heart three times and says <br>all is well, all is well on the bottom of the sea. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I would be planting supernovas like a terrorist with i.e.d.s <br>in the Milky Way by now to add to the chaos <br>were you not the black hole of a galactic inspiration <br>that's mastered me like a magic latent in the heart <br>to burn the sum of all my destructions in a blaze of insight<br>by which the light is known to the light, the way <br>a tree is by a breeze, or ashes know the fire's out.<br>How could I reach out to you except with your own hands? <br>How could I speak to you in any way you'd understand <br>did not your voice coax the words from my mouth<br>like a dream grammar of sacred syllables betokening <br>the things of the earth like the echo of a prayer we forgot? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Too intimate to be the principle of anything <br>and yet your impersonality can only be approached <br>with tenderness, like a feather floating through space, <br>or the cloud that grounds the mountain like the cornerstone <br>of a temple to the emptiness it floats upon. <br>Were you not the valley my grieving shadow wanders through <br>like the lachrymose theme of another lonely psalm<br>trying to palm itself off as poem, how could the eagles <br>shriek eureka in the heights at the very next insight<br>into the nature of your vulnerability moving down below? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We might both dance to the same music as if it were true, <br>but you're the silent witness when I listen to the wind, <br>you're the charmed locket of darkness the light conceals, <br>you're the secret jewel that's wholly transparent <br>to all the eyes in the universe that have spent their lives <br>looking for you like a sky that's been hidden from sight<br>right over their heads and under their feet <br>like an atmosphere and ocean that never left the moon. <br>Even here on earth, the silver fish are frenzied in your tide. <br>Lunar horses graze like waves on your seagrass <br>and run wild when you spook them like an ocean <br>with a bit in your hands, and the look of an angry teacher. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">If your absence were not deeper than my solitude <br>how could I resist the consolations of oblivion <br>and carry on as if I'd never missed you? Who <br>would I long for to affirm my presence in this emptiness <br>that engulfs me like an eye with something in it<br>like a star that can't be washed out? I was not <br>born a warrior to surrender to anyone less than you. <br>I do not open my heart and my mouth to sing <br>lullabies to houseflies growing dozy on the windowsills<br>as the cold comes on like the sheet music of ice. <br>Who would I dedicate the works of my nightshift to <br>like the journal of a dark demon writing to himself <br>about the spiritual intricacies of jumping from paradise <br>just to meet you naked in the garden again <br>as if we were born to be exiled together by the pain<br>that is visited like swarms of killer bees upon those <br>who break taboos like white canes over our knees<br>and throw their cornerstones around like dice <br>to entice blind luck into taking a chance on their disobedience? <br>Who would inherit the crazy wisdom of my human divinity <br>if I did not know how many lives you'll outlive me<br>like the randomness of an alibi based upon a truth<br>that reprieves everyone from death on desolation row <br>by undermining the limits of our culpability with compassion. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">You, the sorceress of meaning, you, the beast mistress<br>of my savage emotions, you, the fire sylph at the hearth <br>of my homeless wandering into these evictions of self<br>that bury the days with no names on their graves. <br>You shake the lightning like a spear of fury in a lion's skull. <br>You wake the dragon from its dream of lotus fire <br>You touch me on a night when nothing else will <br>as if I were real, and the solidity of my atoms sublimates <br>like a ghost of dry ice into a mirage in space<br>so I could see in the grand paradigm of things <br>even the most enduring pyramids in a desert <br>are the work of the wind when the mind is inspired <br>to move things around like the grave goods of the heart<br>in the hands of a tomb robber that frees us of them <br>to travel light without baggage through the gates of Orion. <br>The past has no need of any other afterlife than the present<br>nor the future the prelude of a promise of better things to come. <br>Born into a life with a ferocious childhood for an introduction, <br>I have grown young again in the ashes of those fires, <br>like a skin transplant of flowers over a burnt face<br>to hide the scars, and give the stars some space.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Patrick+White">Patrick White</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476668" data-title="I Would Miss You Were You Not So Deep Inside de Patrick White" data-description="I would miss you if you weren't so deep inside. 
I would send the fireflies out like a search party
to beat the bushes and the stumps to see where you hide 
were you not the stars within that lead me home.
I would cry out in anger and tears, World..."></div>
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